


like i'm the fortune and you're the wheel

by orphan_account



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Abuse, Humiliation, M/M, Oral Sex, Piss, Sexual Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:51:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3326363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's peaceful underwater. This is what 2D knows: long stretches of nothing at all, punctuated periodically by small bursts of pain. 2D looks out the porthole, when he can bear to -- the whale is out there, and it is hungry. He can see it in the eyes of the great thing, the flex of its jaws, the way it moves so alien through deep dark waters, and he shivers. It's a dreadful thing, a beast so large he can hardly comprehend. So he doesn't.</p><p>(plastic beach-era oral noncon with piss and vomiting involved.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	like i'm the fortune and you're the wheel

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from three dead trolls in a baggie's 'better than i am'.

It's peaceful underwater. This is what 2D knows: long stretches of nothing at all, punctuated periodically by small bursts of pain. 2D looks out the porthole, when he can bear to -- the whale is out there, and it is hungry. He can see it in the eyes of the great thing, the flex of its jaws, the way it moves so alien through deep dark waters, and he shivers. It's a dreadful thing, a beast so large he can hardly comprehend. So he doesn't.

He lies on the metal floor of his tomb and sometimes he cries and sometimes he doesn't. It's a tossup. Murdoc had neglected to pack his medications, his Vicodin and Ambien and Zyprexa, and he shakes with withdrawal throughout the first two weeks. He's never been anything more than thin, but he still loses weight. 2D thinks, more than once, that he is dying. Which, he does not say to himself, because he has always had hope, would not be a bad thing.

Murdoc is creepy, is the worst part. 2D hates the yelling and the hissing and the hitting but what he hates the most is when Murdoc lurches out of the shadows with a sandwich on a plate, cut in half just so, and says "eat up,". 

2D takes the sandwich or sometimes he doesn't. Well, once he doesn't -- he pushes it out of Murdoc's hand and Murdoc socks him so hard in the gut that he pukes on the floor, all stomach acid and filtered seawater.

"Noodle made that, idiot," Murdoc says, and 2D wants to say "Noodle's not here, you don't have her," only he doesn't. That is asking for pain. 

But when he does take the sandwich, he eats it in quick bites, half-cringing away from Murdoc, who watches him with dark, hooded eyes, yellow teeth set in a sneer. 

"You're a bloody animal, aren't you?" Murdoc asks, and grabs 2D by the hair. 2D goes limp, because it helps sometimes, stops his limbs from snapping when he falls inevitably on the ground. "Just a dumb animal." 

"'m not," 2D mumbles, staring at the floor. It doesn't really matter what he says. 

"I think you are, princess," Murdoc says, and his fingers in 2D’s hair tighten. He yanks hard enough that 2D yelps loudly, struggles for a second, his blood-dark eyes filling with tears. He doesn’t say anything. He bites his tongue hard enough that he can taste blood. It doesn’t matter what he says. 

He looks out the window behind Murdoc, the window that stands between him and the deep blue sea. There’s something moving out there. He imagines himself opening the window, swimming, drowning—

Murdoc tugs again, and there’s an audible sound of hair ripping. 2D gasps, driven out of his tiny fantasy: it hurts. He thinks his scalp is bleeding. He tries to push Murdoc’s hands away. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, Murdoc keeps tugging, his his nails scraping against 2D’s scalp.

And then he lets go. 2D falls from his toes to his knees, bony kneecaps hitting the floor hard. He covers his face with his hands, trying to hide, trying to move away, the thing is right outside the window! 

Murdoc moves, blocking the porthole with his silhouette, and leans down. He grabs 2D by the shirt collar with one hand, tugging uncomfortably upwards, and straightens up again to unzip his the zipper of his pants. 

2D’s eyes go wide and his breathing goes ragged. He reaches up and grabs at Murdoc’s hand, trying to push him away. He can’t, he can’t, he doesn’t want to, and Murdoc’s hold is tight and true and he’s pulling down his jeans, no boxers, and pulling out his dick. 

2D tries not to look. He doesn’t want to look, he doesn’t want to suck Murdoc’s dick, he doesn’t want to be a hundred miles underwater. He covers his eyes with his skinny hands and Murdoc shakes him a little. 

“Look, sweetcheeks,” Murdoc says, and his voice is gentle enough that 2D seizes up. His fingers curl and scratch against his face and he lowers his hands stiffly, his teeth gritted. 

Murdoc is holding his half-hard dick at the base, hand pressed up against wiry black pubic hair, and he’s pointing it at 2D, and before 2D can react or move away or do anything but goggle the first drops of piss hit his face. He splutters with surprise and tries to yank away but Murdoc is stronger than he looks and he’s locked 2D in place and it’s getting in his eyes and nose and mouth. 

2D covers his face after another dumb second and Murdoc sighs audibly, irritatedly, and the taste of Murdoc’s piss is in his mouth. He retches and almost throws up the sandwich Murdoc had forced on him but manages to keep it down. Murdoc finishes a second later and lets 2D’s pee-soaked collar go. 

2D gasps and doubles over on the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks and splattering onto the metal floor, and he lets out a high choking sob. His hands clench in front of him and Murdoc’s hand is on the back of his neck, rubbing. 

“’s okay, love,” Murdoc says, and his voice is mock-sweet. He keeps rubbing and 2D keeps crying and the moment goes on for a long, long time. His skin is rough and it feels noxious against 2D’s skin, absolutely toxic. He can still taste and smell the piss on him. Murdoc’s kneeling next to him and there’s a soft wet sound happening and 2D looks up, his face soggy with snot and tears. 

Murdoc is stroking his cock, dark with blood and wet at the tip, and when he sees that 2D is looking up he grins, slow and cheshire. 

“C’mere, boy,” he says, and whistles lowly, like one would do to a dog. “Or I’ll make it hurt, a’ight?” 

2D snuffles, trying to breathe through his clogged nose, and he slowly gets up onto his hands and knees. Murdoc will make it hurt — he knows Murdoc will make it hurt. He shuffles forwards and ends up near Murdoc’s legs and Murdoc grabs his hair and tries to pull him the rest of the way. 2D’s scalp is already sore, so he moves forward faster until his head is almost nuzzled into Murdoc’s crotch. 

2D shivers and grimaces and Murdoc’s fingers are still in his hair. He pulls on until 2D’s cheek is up against his cock. It feels warm and soft and vile, like the skin of some sort of maggot. 2D almost retches again. He doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want to, but Murdoc’s hand has let go of his tangles and is hooking its fingers into his lower lip. 

“Don’t, Muds,” he says. voice husky with snot. “Please, please—“ 

Murdoc laughs. “Let’s see those chompers,” he says, and he forces 2D’s mouth open, fingers catching on his lower front teeth. “You ought to brush your teeth more, faceache.” 

2D can feel himself drooling around Murdoc’s fingers. He’s crying again, just a little, and Murdoc pauses and looks at him, really looks, and for a blissful second 2D thinks he’s going to apologize and let him go and their already-drowned relationship will be even further ruined, yes, but he won’t have to, he won’t have to… 

“Can’t believe I’ve never done this to you before,” Murdoc says. “Always thought you were useless. A pretty face, yeah, but… fundamentally useless, y’know?”

And then his cock is in 2D’s mouth, pushed up against his tongue. He tastes like sweat and piss and 2D wants to vomit on him but Murdoc’s pushing his mouth closed. 

“No teeth,” he says. 2D looks at him desperately but nothing clicks, even when Murdoc meets his the black holes of his eyes. He’s drooling copiously, slobber dripping down his chin, and Murdoc grabs the back of his head and thrusts in. The head of his cock hits 2D’s tonsils and this time 2D really does gag, eyes widening, tasting bile. 

“And don’t fucking puke on me,” Murdoc warns. He shows his own teeth in a snarl and thrusts in again, shallower this time, allowing him just a smidgen of comfort. 2D tries to just take it, just kneel there and allow Murdoc to fuck his face, but it’s hard, and uncomfortable, and he’s trying not to break down in full-blown tears. 

Murdoc keeps thrusting, slowly, his fingers nestled in 2D’s blue hair and holding his head in place. He’s thick and heavy on 2D’s tongue and he picks up pace slowly but surely. 2D’s trying not to puke, he’s trying not to puke, but it’s so hard when Murdoc is hitting his tonsils. Murdoc’s breath is becoming labored and short, each gasp a little frantic, and 2D thinks oh, no. 

“Swallow, Fido,” Murdoc says, his voice a raspy purr, and he thrusts in one, two, three times, each as deep as he can make it, forcing their way down 2D’s throat, and then he cums. 

His cum is bitter and salty and he lets go of 2D’s head. 2D vomits on the floor, chunks of sandwich and cum and bile and stringy saliva all splashing out of his mouth. Murdoc watches with disgust, hits him upside the head. “I told you to swallow!” 

He stands up, tucking his cock back in and zipping up his jeans. 2D lies hunched on the floor, legs tucked underneath him and hands covering his dirty face. He’s not crying, he realizes distantly. He looks up through his fingers, at Murdoc and the porthole behind him. 

Murdoc is looking down with an expression of loathing on his face. “Disgusting little beggar, ain’tcha?” he says, and walks around to kick 2D in the ribs, which hurts, but he barely notices. There’s an air of disappointment around him, like he expected more of a fuss and is let down by the fact that there hardly was one. 

He leaves, after a few more seconds and another swift booted kick to the ribs. The door audibly locks behind him, bolted heavily, and 2D watches the window with glazed eyes. 

The whale’s still out there, and he is hungry.


End file.
